Evidemment Chapter 10: Salt n Pepper Diner
Note: I'm again adapting more plot elements from Hoovytube's sfm. This time I'm adding more ideas from TF2C
A big cloud of feathers swarmed around Ludwig covering him completely; “Hoo! Easy there girls,” he winced, birds pecking around his face and hands as he ripped open the bag of feed. Seeds and pellets decorated the ground for them to feast, finally leaving the Doctor alone. Although, not unsacvaded as he was left with tiny peck marks and feathers on his clothes and hair. “Heh..birds” he grumbled dusting himself off and plucking seeds that somehow got stuck in his fringes during the fray.
Gathering their bearings, Spy went to access the damage. Wheels had popped off rolling down the hill awhile ago and the front engine was still steaming with some of the glass from the mirrors impaled into the pine trees.
He scavenged what he could from the trunk and the back seats, a map, a lock pick, and loose change. He tucked them into his hidden pockets that were sewn into the lining of his suit and patted them in as a quick inventory check.
“Ready Docteur? Have everything?” Medic manic grim lit up as soon as he turned around, scooping him up pinned to his chest in bridal formation.“I do now,” he replied, as smug as ever.
“Put me down,” Spy retaliates, crossing his arms, a scowl appearing on his face brow narrowed.
“But you're still injured,” he teased, tugging at Spy’s check, his frown deepening in annoyance. Spy swatted Medic's hands away like a cat's paw sticking under a doorframe.
“I can move just fine on my own, my legs aren’t broken-”
“Not yet,” he said, leaning in whispering in a sinister tone, his grimace widening.
“Can't tell if that's a threat or you’re actually being cautious with your patient for once.”
“Don’t test me,” he winked as he pretended to toss Spy out of his grasp, only for him to actually fall out and into his feet.
Dusting himself off, he pulled out a map hidden behind his disguise kit and cigs. Analyzing the horizon below them, past the banks of rolling hills of desert and the sparse trees, was a long stretch of road with nothing else in sight- nothing but a sign: Nearest Town, Dove Creek, 38 miles. He sighed, folding up the map neatly before placing it back into the lining of his jacket.
A tumble weed rolled past as they marched down the hill, the car smoking by the bent tree in the distance. No functioning vehicles for the steal in view either, leaving the two to cross the desert on foot in the cold of the night.
Sweating, sleeves rolled up, jackets undone, cuffed pants and soaked socks later they finally spot their awaited oasis: The Statline.
A single bar sound by nothing but dirt, grime and a dusty car park with multiplier spots taken up by campervans that somehow outshine Snipers in quality. The exterior wood, dark oak stained and washed out by the sun. Bleached white crooked sign, barely hanging on with an edge of its life-cobwebs in all. It was as if a ghost town was a singular building which was quite the stark contrast to the interior.
Entering the bar was like getting flash-banged with color.Bright orange oak wood tables with red booths aligned against walls embellished with chotskies. It looks like your classic mom and pop salt n pepper dinners with more of a southwestern twang. It definitely had more love and care on the inside than out. The coziness aside, it was rather empty late at night. While still welcomed by the 24 hr sign in the front, there was no sign of waiting staff. Seating in the far back was dimly lit by lanterns sitting on the table reflecting off canisters left behind the bar, it was the perfect atmosphere for the two gents to rest and discuss further steps in private.
Spy slithered onto the corner of the booth, peering out the window behind his head. Medic on the other hand, forcefully shoved Spy back towards the front scooting over like an overly eager kid wanting the window seat of an airplane. The doctor- practically crashing into the red booth causing the rubbery cushion to sink in with his body weight, while cozy looking had definitely lost some of its spring over the years. He leaned over the table with a huff, and pulled off his glasses up to the edge of his sweater, rubbing the soft fabric lightly against it, ridding the lenses of dust and grime- just barely removing the single spec of blood on the rim that he forgot to clean earlier.
It was a quiet moment to rest between, as dust particles danced into the air in the light of the window, both leaned back into the cushy seats exhausted.
The silence was quickly broken by a southern accent.
“Well gosh darn it, sorry about this gents, how long have y'all been waiting for some service? We normally don't get any at this hour.” A waitress, standing tall over them tired eyes looking down at a wrinkled pad of paper, her foot tapping rhythmically waiting for a response.
“No not at all, We're just passing through, thought this was ah..” Spy glanced past her, spotting a tumble weed rolling in the back as the lights flickered for a moment, “charming place for a rest stop.”
“Charming hmm… Well then what can I get for you boys?”
“One coffee, black, please.” He leaned back as Medic pushed forward in the most annoying way possible, lifting his arm blocking the spy, signaling with his hands in the poor waitress's face: “Make it two, and oooh! Fries!”
“Gotcha, will be right back with those for you.” She walked away beaming with the world's biggest plastic smile only for it to flip into the realist frown once she turned the corner, sighing having to flick the kitchen lights on once again.
“You did that on purpose,” Spy spoke with a hiss, folding his arms.
“Who? Me?” The medic pointed to himself, staring at him with the widest 'I'm definitely not evil grin’™ .
“Don't play koi with me Doctor,” Spy tossed a cigarette into Medics face, the cig bouncing off him unflinching and not blinking. “I know you're doing that on purpose.”
“Whatever do you mean ?” He teased. leaning back hand on chest pretending to be shocked and offended “why would I ever do such a thing?”
“You're testing to see what kind of reactions you can get out of me by pressing my buttons,” Spy paused before continuing, his voice slowly growing into more robotic as he goes on. “You do this to see what people are willing to tolerate before they inevitably leave.”
“Ooo! Such an accurate observation! As sharp as ever I see! You should really help me take notes on my next experiments!” Medic said, rubbing his hands together- his mind flooding with a thousand thoughts a minute.
“You also test someone to see if they have the patience to
deal with you. by attempting to push those away you as best you can- with long redundant stories- psychical touches- anything that keys you in that they're worth your time-”
“That's too personal of an observation! What else are you going to say? I have issues with my father? What are you, Freud-”
“Confirms what?” he snaps.
‘... that you are insecure about this whole situation.Thinking I'm not being sincere about my offer, that I'd grow to see you as a burden… like all the others,’
“That I like getting a rise out of you too,” a delish smile slides onto Spy's face-mirroring Medics.
“Ohh shut up!” He lightly jabs Spy in the shoulder before folding his arms, acting more irritable than usual. Though it doesn't hide his smile being highlighted by a rose colored flush spreading across his face.
He snickers. “You know you're positively adorable when you're angry.”
“You're lucky I haven't pulled out my bonesa-” Medic paused, noticing Spy's sudden expression going back to neutral freezing in place.
“Is that your sick way of flirting, son?”
Holding a black tray of two steaming coffees and a bin of fries in one hand, the other slapped one the table, was a man in a grease torn apron. His gruff exterior opposed the delicate aesthetics of the dinner. He wore a brown bomber jacket- patches sewn up loose stitches. Pants to match. The only part of the waiter's face that was visible was a strong stubbled chin. The rest, shrouded by a concave metal of a makeshift helmet.
“Heh. I haven't been called that in years. I'm guessing you boys must've gone awol? Gravel wars right?” The men sat in silence, watching the waiter place the coffee tray down and lift his helmet up while wiping his brow, exposing his eyes. “May I join you fellahs?” He said with an abrasive tone.
Medic shifted into a more serious position, glancing back at Spy who just simply nodded in response.
Glancing at the man across from them, his more professional demeanor diminished instantly as he began stealing their fries- pointing with them while talking mouth full of food- disgusting spy especially. “Now…” he continued while munching on their food, “what are you boys thinking running all back here of all places?”
Spy stirred his coffee longingly, ignoring the gluttonous display across from him. “I can guess the same reason as you-retired I presume?”
“Retired, how'd you- wow he's good!” He leaned towards Medic, picking up a fry and pointed at Spy. The medic just slapped his hand away pulling the fry tray aside. “I remember when I first retired from the Brown team…” he trailed off.
Medics' ears perked up, leaning into the countertop hands on the table “Brown team?,” he questions, astonished at this casual relevantion. “When were you going to tell me about other players in our war!” He whisper-yelled at Spy who just shrugged. “It's part of my job not to tell…”
Yawning, Spy casually stole their tray back away from the former Brown Soldier.“Most of the teams before us are dead or retired for the most part.” He took a sip from his coffee and paused for a moment to clear his throat.”Remember the rumors of the hustler destroying his own team?“
“Yellow actually,” Spy clarified.
“He's right, at one point there was a brown, yellow, and even a gre-” Soldier chimed, only to be cut off by the sound of teeth grinding.
“Please don't tell me there's also green team.”
“ I was gonna say grey but yeah there were more teams.”
“I thought that it was just RED VS BLU! Not vs whole color wheel! Medic projects, but is stopped by Spy pushing him back into his seat leaning into the booth.
“You didn't let me explain. The other teams weren't meant to fight in the Gravel Wars but to dismantle them.”
The Soldier pulled out a bottle of ketchup and placed in the center of the table next to a blue cup. “See this here is you and your enemy team.”
Fiddling with his pocket, he pulled out a half opened hot sauce packet. He placed in on the far end of the table away from the fries. “This is the my, well..former team.”
He looked away from the two of them then back at the sauce packet before continuing. “Orginally we were one team founded and hired by the government to dismantle the gravel wars all together,” he explains while shoving the hot sauce next to the mustard for demonstration. “It was getting too expensive for even the good ol’ USA to cover up, let's say…”
“How come we haven't heard of this before?”
“Our operation came to an abrupt end when we started disagreeing on how to go through with it.” The soldier rubbed his chin contemplating how to handle his next few words. “ I remember it well. It was a cold morning as we gathered inside our makeshift war room. After debriefing, our leader was about to dismiss everyone when all of a sudden-a voice spoke out from behind the crowd. It was a young man with a thick Polish accent and an even thicker beard.”
Spy nodded as he listened and glance at Medic who seemed paler than usual, engrossed with the Soldiers monologue.
“ Most would've guessed that he was just another private spewing nonsense about collecting weapons and war-mongering, nothing us vets haven't seen. I just thought he was a boy set on getting a new Bebe gun for Australian Christmas. But then he added ‘how come we are letting all these weapons go to waste? Why can't the government reclaim them for real war?’”
“ You mean the Hustler ?” Medic whipsered under his breath.
Soilder sat there silently, then took a breath and continued.
“Yes his single line of questioning divides us within seconds. That led to the 2 faction teams - Brown and Yellow “ he expressed while separating the sauce packet from the mustard bottle. “That single line of questioning divides us within seconds. One side -Brown wanting to keep to the original plan and end the silly feud and cover it up . But the other side -yellow didn't want to waste all the resources and wanted to repurpose the technology for themselves.”
“ The Conagher techonlogy I presume,” Spy chimed in.
“ Of all the possibilities it could have for extending life and evolving humanity. Brown thought the world wasn't ready for that kinda power and responsibility but Yellow doubled down. We no longer cared about stopping Red or Blu but each other. “
Medic stood abruptly, grabbing Spy by the shoulder, forcing him to also stand. He proceeded to frantically push him outside the diner’s door, his heels practically scratching the floor.
“Spy!” Medic, shook Spy by the arms shaking him like a snowglobe. “We need to turn back now!.”
Spy’s face wrinkled as he took a slow breathe and placed his hands on Medic. “ Docteur, I need you to take a moment and calm down. And please take your damn hands off me”
“ Ha, Ha, Whoops..” Medic awkardly dropped his arms to his sides. “ We need to go back, we-”
“What.” Medic was left asgasped. He was just going to let him leave like that? No pleading or any smidge of letting him go with grace. Not even a proper goodbye. Just ‘you can go’. The utter audacity.
Spy glanced at him once, then pulled out his lighter liting a cig and turned away. “I’m not keeping you here, if you need to go back then-”
“ Enough of the bulllshittery Spy! You know as well as I that you dont want to continue on without me!” The doctor folded his arms in retaliation.
“Why would I want to return to Red,” his voice became gravely, as him crushed his cigarette into the ground. “ They were the ones who didn’t care to-”
“Spy, I don't care if the team doesn't want you, but I do. I'm tired of running like dogs with tails between their legs. We need to fight back! If we don't, it'd be the end for all of us.”
“End of us all?” Spy questioned, fiddling with his lighter.
“ Ack! I realized what the Hustler was planning!”
The seluth froze brefilly, and then finally faced Medic once more. “Come again?”
“He’s going to destory respawn.”
Spys eyes widened. Grabbing Medic by the hand, they brust through the diners door. Charging in, he slammed a stack of hundreds on their old table. The Soldier lifted his helmet up awstruck in the amount before him. “Get us back to Teufort, now.”
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